The Very Secret Diary
by HomemadeMagic
Summary: From CoS: 'I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there,' said Ron, 'Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in....' Short, completely negated by HBP. Subject to revision.


Tom slid out of bed, feeling more than a little grumpy.  "Why don't they ever _heat_ these dungeons?" he muttered as he shoved his feet into slippers and made his way towards the front of his bed.

The pile of presents was distressingly small.  He sighed; what had he expected? A six foot tall tower of package upon package upon package? Yeah, right.  He never got that many presents for Christmas.  Sure, his two "friends" might send him a book or two, but never anything special.  Certainly, the orphanage never bothered.

Nevertheless, he felt some sort of anticipation as he reached for the first, book-shaped parcel.  It might be interesting to find out what the book was, anyway.  Of course, he had probably already read it, but he could always trade it in later.  He pulled the silvery wrapping paper off and peered at it.

"_One Hundred and One Advanced Spells and Enchantments_," he read aloud.  His eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.  Well, at least he hadn't read it before.  "Huh..." He opened the book, and a piece of parchment fell out of it.

"_Tom,_" the note read,

"_I know how you're into insanely advanced curses and spells, and when I saw this book in Hogsmeade I knew it was perfect for you.  Sorry I couldn't be there for Christmas; you know how my mum is.  Anyway, maybe this'll keep you busy until term starts again.  Merry Christmas!_

-_Dave_"

Tom snorted.  Dave hadn't even bothered to say goodbye to him when he left; he was pretty sure the other Slytherin didn't miss him.  Oh well; the boy was right, the book might keep him occupied for a while.  Shrugging, he turned back to the book and began flipping through the pages, glancing at a couple spells every now and then.

His eyes fell on one particular page, and his eyebrows shot up when he saw what the title was.  "_Talking to Diaries...How to Make Them Talk Back._"  Curious, he read on to see that it was possible to bind your personality to a book, so that when someone wrote in it, the book could write back.

A slow smile spread across his face.  That could be useful...very useful.  He dog-eared the page and set it aside for later, then reached for the other two packages.

The first was a box of Chocolate Frogs from another boy in his dormitory, nothing special; the boy seemed to think Tom was lonely and had adopted him as a sort of charity case, sending him gifts every Christmas for some reason.  Tom wasn't exactly sure why he had been put in Slytherin at all, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with the way he got a kick out of hexing the first year Gryffindors.

The second package, however, from another boy who seemed to think it was his duty to give everyone in the dormitory something, caught his attention again.

It wasn't anything special at first glance, just a small, plain, black book.  Plain, except for the year, stamped into the cover: 1942.  Flipping to the back, he could see that the book was bought on Vauxhall Road, in London.  Thinking for a second, he realized the boy who bought it was Muggle-born.  Of course.   Who else would have thought to give him such a worthless, small, plain book?

A small, plain, _empty_ book.

Tom, flipping through the pages, found that it was supposed to be a diary of sorts.  Another smile, decidedly more wicked, began to cover his face again.

He picked up the other book he had received and opened it to the page he had marked.  As he read through the spell, more carefully this time, a small, simple plan began forming in his mind.

A small, simple, _deadly_ plan.

Maybe the book wasn't so worthless after all.  Tom smirked at the irony of it all.  Who would have thought that a filthy..._Mudblood _could have given him the one present that may later seal his fate?  Hopefully, things wouldn't come down to it, but if they did...ah, well, he'd have to see.

"Merry Christmas to me," Tom said softly, reaching for his wand...and a quill.

And, very carefully, on the first page, he wrote a very simple phrase:

_T.M. Riddle_

Then he pulled out his wand and glanced at the book of spells.  "Point the wand at the book and say the following spell...wait six days to let it sink in, carry the book everywhere with you so it will understand your personality...then write in it every day afterwards," he muttered to himself.

Then he turned back to the book, and raised his wand.  


THE BEGINNING  
  


No, I'm not writing any more.  This is a short story.  A standalone.  So don't ask.

A/N: Ah, nice, kind, comforting sort of person, isn't he?  I got the idea for this story mostly from a picture by Audrey at the Sugar Quill (sugarquill.net), entitled "Bind my soul..."  It inspired me to write this.


End file.
